Chapter 3
The thing I regretted most was that I gave up everything I once had for her.
Stella and I were college classmates.
I majored in architecture, while she studied business management.
Back then, she was nothing like the person she is now.
She'd be there outside the library, always in a flowery dress, waiting for me.
One time, I skipped three days of class, holed up in the studio, working on a model.
She walked in, holding two cans of Coke and some braised meat snacks.
"If you don't come out soon, I'm calling the cops and reporting you missing," she teased.
She crouched down next to me, checking out the model, then looked at me seriously and said, "Arturo, you're going to be the best architect out there."
I believed her.
After graduation, I got hired at a prestigious architecture firm and worked there for three years.
I picked up two state-level design awards and even led the design for a major urban complex.
When I turned 28, one of the partners patted me on the shoulder and said, "Arturo, stick around for another couple of years, and the next partnership is yours."
But that was also the year Jessica was born.
Stella's career was taking off. She was always working late, traveling for business, or out networking, gone for twenty days out of every month.
We hired two baby nurses, but Jessica still cried through the night.
Three months in, Stella sat me down for a talk.
"Why don't you just take a break for a few years?" she said.
She made it sound like it was the easiest thing in the world. "Once Jessica starts kindergarten, you can jump right back into work. My salary covers everything.
"Seriously, I make enough to support us all.
"Don't stress. With your talent, you'll have no trouble finding a great job whenever you want."
I spent three days thinking it over.
Eventually, I said yes.
I figured it'd only be for a little while.
Three years turned into five, and five years turned into seven.
Every time I mentioned going back to work, she always had some new excuse ready to shut me down.
She said, "Jessica just started elementary school. If you go back to work, who's going to pick her up and drop her off?
"Who's going to handle everything at home?
"You've been out of the game for so long. Who's even going to want you back?"
She said that last one more than once.
Sometimes she'd drop that line right at the dinner table, with her parents sitting there.
Other times, she'd say it over the phone, loud enough for her colleagues to hear.
"My husband? Yeah, he's at home, playing full-time stay-at-home dad," Stella would laugh, not even bothering to hide the sarcasm.
But I always caught it.
Every single time, I caught it.
On moving day, Jessica helped me with the tape.
The six-year-old, her ponytail all crooked, crouched next to the cardboard box.
"Dad, where are we moving to?" she asked.
"We're moving to the east side. I rented a small apartment," I told Jessica.
"Does it have a balcony?"
"Yep, it does."
"Can I plant flowers there?"
"Absolutely, you can."
Jessica grinned, flashing her gap-toothed smile.
"Great," she said.
I ruffled her hair.
Jessica never asked why her parents split up.
She never asked why Mom never came to visit.
All she cared about were her flowers and the balcony.
The new place was in an old neighborhood on the east side, a two-bedroom apartment, 1,000 dollars a month.
It wasn't big, but at least it was clean.
After hauling in the last box, I stood out on the balcony.
My phone rang.
It was an unknown number.
"Arturo?" The voice was familiar.
"Johann? Is that you?" I asked.
"Yeah, it's me," Johann replied.
Johann Bradford was my old partner from the architecture firm.
"Heard you and Stella split up?" Johann asked.
Word sure gets around fast.
"Yeah."
"So, what's next for you?"
"Honestly, I'm just trying to get my life back on track."
"Perfect timing." He paused for a moment.
Then he continued, "Do you remember the design you drew up before you left? The creative district out west?"
"Yeah, I remember."
"That project won the bid. The client requested you personally to come back and take charge."
"Johann," I said, staring out the window. "That was seven years ago."
"The design might be seven years old, but you—" Johann said, letting his words hang in the air.
"You think I don't know what you've been up to?" Johann continued.
I didn't say anything.
"Maynard Studio, taking on jobs under the radar, specializing in high-end private homes and tourism projects. That boutique hotel complex up in Evergreen Ridge three years ago was your work, wasn't it?" Johann asked.
I was quiet for a couple of seconds.
"How did you know?" I asked.
"Your signature is all over it, Arturo. There are maybe five people in the whole business who can pull off those light-and-shadow effects like you," Johann said.
He paused and then added, "And that traditional lodge makeover in the Southern Isles last year?
"It snagged the Coastal Region Design Silver Award. Everyone on the panel was dying to know who Maynard Studio actually was."
I gripped my phone and didn't say a word.
"So quit pretending," Johann said, his tone shifting, growing serious. "Arturo, it's time for you to come back."
After tucking Jessica in for the night, I sat down at the folding table in the living room.
I opened my laptop.
There were seventeen unread emails waiting for me.